Page 1 of Shadows of Ruin (The Broken Prophecy #2)

KADE, SEVEN YEARS AGO

T he crowd gathered for today’s execution stared gleefully at the bleeding man, trembling on his knees.

The show hadn’t even begun, yet blood stained the cobblestone of the dais in the courtyard beneath him.

“Those who stand against Mysthaven will be swiftly brought to justice.” The king’s brash voice echoed through the jagged mountains surrounding the palace courtyard. “Traitors are the reason the darkness spreads in our lands. With their lies, they seek to control you.”

My hands tightened into a fist watching the large man, broken at the feet of the king. The involuntary twitch garnered the king’s attention, and his eyes narrowed on me.

This execution was the third this week alone. The plots against the king, against our kingdom, seemed to be increasing. I nodded toward the king, his black velvet robe billowing behind him in the wind, just like his black hair underneath his black glittering crown.

Always black.

Dark.

Perhaps on someone else, the crown would look beautiful. The dark material shimmered in the sunlight. On him, it merely amplified the cold cruelness stored within.

“Traitors must therefore be punished accordingly.” A sinister smile curved his lips upward as the king gestured to the two guards holding the latest traitor at his feet. “Kade.” The king summoned me forward.

My shadows pooled at my feet, swirling around me. My power had increased significantly in the past year, the shadows developing a mind of their own. Usually, I wielded them as a deadly extension of the king’s will, but lately an internal battle between my shadows and me flared. Rare in the grand scheme of using my powers, but enough for me to take notice.

They hated the king. Their reluctance to follow my commands around him had been the first sign that perhaps somewhere deep inside me, I didn’t like the monster I’d become.

The Monster of Mysthaven .

The king stepped back, as murmurs from the crowd hummed around me. Their bubbling excitement at the public displays of violence disturbed me. It hadn’t before, but now…something didn’t feel right.

“Storm,” the king shouted, pointing at one of the guards holding the man.

Storm . He hid our friendship well. He glanced at me, barely acknowledging my presence. It reminded me of eight years ago when he spoke to me in annoyed grunts, requesting we train together.

No one spoke to me, except this man. A man who dared to befriend the shadow-cloaked monster.

He stared at me now while he drew his sword and presented it to me with an exaggerated bow. We both knew this was a damn show. A show of the king’s power through us, his Guardians.

The king inclined his head toward me, giving his monster space to work. “This is what happens when you choose to defy your king,” he roared to the eager onlookers. Their shouts of excitement filled the air as their arms punched the sky in heady anticipation of the impending execution. I chose to ignore the disgust building at their enthusiasm.

I flipped the sword in my hand and briefly met the traitor’s gaze. His eyes didn’t hold wrath or anger. They didn’t even contain spite.

For one moment, I hesitated.

Instead, the man on the stone ground watched me with something that made my skin crawl.

Hope .

As if I would somehow do the right thing and defy the king’s orders. I could barely tell right from wrong anymore. Not that I ever admitted that out loud.

King Dargan approached me and placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing tightly. Dread coiled in my gut. I knew he noticed my hesitation. The gesture wasn’t in comfort or reassurance, like he wanted others to believe. His voice dropped. “You do as you’re told, when you’re told, or you will face punishment as well.”

He squeezed my shoulder roughly once more and took two large steps back. I clenched my jaw, wishing the traitor would look away as I sliced the sword forward hurriedly through the man’s neck, but not completely. And his gaze never left mine. Blood spattered as the crowd cheered. The man’s head clung to his body in a desperate attempt to remain attached.

Nausea churned deep within me, and I pulled my arms back and swung again. Harder. Faster. With one more clean swing over the man’s neck, his head rolled from atop his body.

The thud on the ground as it fell turned my stomach. Gasps from the crowd tittered around us, but none of them dared to run.

“Remove the body,” the king ordered the additional guards lining the courtyard. He prowled toward the shadows, returning with a leather whip in hand.

The whip wasn’t new. Bringing it out in public was though. My body tensed, freezing in front of everyone.

“Kneel before your king,” he said, dramatically pointing the whip at my face.

I felt Storm flinch, but I didn’t look at my friend, who stood just a few feet away from me.

“It seems my Guardians need a reminder. Disobedience at any level, Guardian or not, will not be tolerated.”

My lip curled as I met the king’s hateful glare, but I schooled my expression, refusing to give him any satisfaction. Unbuttoning my shirt, I shrugged it off, kneeling before him, hands on my knees.

He grinned. “Face them.”

I lifted my chin, turning and kneeling before the people of Mysthaven. How had we become a kingdom of people who cheered and enjoyed public punishments? A kingdom so terrified of their neighbors that they turned on each other, praying the king stopped the spread of evil and dark ones in our land.

The more the king unleashed me to destroy these so-called traitors across Mysthaven, the more I learned about them. The more inconsistencies appeared in the narrative spun by the king. The more I felt like a monster. Not the righteous hand of the king, but a weapon wielded by evil hands.

“No one is above the king. No one is above Mysthaven. Anyone who believes they are will be held accountable. For allowing so many traitors among us as of late, my Guardian will accept this reminder of my might and my mercy by retaining his life.”

Crack.

The whip lanced along my back as the king finished spewing his lies. He held himself above all else.

Crack .

The leather split my skin. The familiar sting across my back tingled across my spine. He’d drawn one of his special whips for this display. The king had a collection of torture devices containing some sort of magic. Magic that somehow made my punishments harsher.

As pain flooded my body, I let it fill me with rage. I kept my hands on my knees, unflinching, refusing to give him the satisfaction of breaking me.

After all, I’ve had years to get used to this particular form of punishment.

I lost count at thirty lashes, and once the last crack rang in the courtyard, the crowd had gone silent.

When the punishment stopped, the crowd quietly shuffled away. Most of the other Guardians left too. Dismissed by the king perhaps? Or maybe just done watching their leader, the king’s most trusted Guardian, be whipped for so long.

I finally let go of my control, falling forward as my body trembled, shadows nowhere to be found.

The king’s polished black boots appeared in front of my face. He leaned down. “You will remember your place. You will abide by my orders. Hesitate again in my presence or at an order, and I will destroy you.”

I lay on the cool cobblestone, wishing it would swallow me whole. Monster . I’d remain his monster, or I’d die.

Maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad.

Feet scuffed along the stones, but I didn’t raise my head to look at who approached.

“The winds, they whisper a solemn tale. One fated in nature, calling to you. Magic swirls in unrelenting waves, crested in light.” Our seer, the strange woman who always cared for me, spoke in her riddles as she kneeled beside me.

“Are you flirting with me, Cassandra?”

She squeezed a piece of unblemished flesh. “Hush, boy. Hush.”

A warmth radiated along my back. Cassandra’s skills were unrivaled. How she held such strong healing gifts while also being a seer made no sense. No one knew how deep her magic ran.

No one but me.

She’d been healing me for years. The king didn’t pay enough attention to know when Cassandra had taken over my healing from the palace healer, Nadia.

Or if he knew, he didn’t care.

The wounds on my back wept blood. Suddenly, my shadows whipped out of me, called forth either by Cassandra or after my own natural healing abilities kicked in. I couldn’t heal others, but I could assist my own Fae abilities and bolster them to quicken the process myself.

When I finally pulled myself from the ground, bloody droplets, more black than red, ran down my rib bones.

Slow. Steady.

Cassandra didn’t stop her ministrations, swirling her hands in sweeping motions. Sparks emitted from the tips of her fingers, and her eyes narrowed in concentration.

“I think my magic is abandoning me,” I said to her, confiding in the woman who had stood by my side since my mother died. “Or fighting me.”

“Your magic will guide you if you let it.”

I shuddered. “I’m the Monster of Mysthaven. My magic should obey.”

“Obey who?”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. She knew everything, even the darkness inside of me. The one I tried and failed to fight so many times.

“This is not your path, Kade Blackthorn,” she hummed. “You forget my words, but I never will.”

She spoke reassuringly as she continued healing me, her speech coherent, in a way it so rarely was.

“I’ll speak them once more for your weary soul.” Her hands continued removing the pain from the lashes decorating my back.

I knew the words she’d speak, even if they didn’t make sense to me yet. She believed in me. Believed I’d figure out this damned prophecy. Cassandra’s assurances to convince me the prophecy was mine drowned out my protests long ago that it might be for someone else.

Her voice changed, coming out as if she spoke the words of a lullaby as she finished mending what the king had so enjoyed breaking.

“Rebels rise where darkness lies,

Not one but two must break the ties.

Across the void, a queen you must seek,

Trust freely given, for one alone proves too weak.

Though evil will free and be bound no more,

Fate still awaits one final war.”